“Yeah. Get it. We don’t want any evidence here, if we
can help it.”
“These days,” Quill said rigidly, “there’s always evidence. You’re in a world of trouble, Lila.”
Lila laughed. “Tough cookie, aren’t you?” Then, to
Pamela, “Go on. What’re you, stupid? Get the towel.”
Pamela snuffled, then walked heavily to the rear of
the trailer. She reemerged with a stack of bath towels
and a dampened washcloth. Lila sank into the armchair
next to the couch, her face amused.
And she never lowered the gun.
Quill muttered “sorry, sorry, sorry” under her breath
as she wrapped Marge’s leg. Her friend’s face was very
pale. She lay slumped back on the couch with closed
eyes. Quill cleaned her face with the washcloth, then
rose and went to the sink in the tiny kitchen and washed
the blood from her hands. “Evidence,” she said as she
ran the tap and watched the pink water whirl down the
drain, “all over the place. You may think you can kill the
both of us, but you’re not going to get away with it.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Lila said agreeably.
Quill walked back to the couch and sat down next to
Marge. “Let’s see if I can get the events in order, here.
When Maxwell Kittleburger decided to sell Pet Pro, you
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decided to steal as much of the purchase price as you
could.”
“She’d already taken the old fart for a bundle,”
Pamela said proudly. “But with those accountants coming in to check things over, we would have been in the soup, wouldn’t we, Lila?”
“So you had a deadline? The attorneys were coming
in to start the discovery process, and you would have
been caught with your hand in the till.” Pamela nodded.
“That helps makes sense of the timing of the murder, I
guess.” Quill crossed one knee over the other. She felt
an eerie calm. “But why kill Maxwell? I take it you’re
planning on leaving us for a country that doesn’t believe
in extradition? And surely being sought for grand theft,
or whatever the charge would be, is a lot less risky than
being a fugitive from a murder charge.”
“I never did figure out why we had to kill Mr. Kittleburger,” Pamela said.
Lila’s eyes flickered—so briefly that Quill almost
didn’t catch it. Abruptly, her calm disappeared. “Pamela!
You were going to pin Maxwell’s murder on Pamela!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lila raised the gun. “There’s
so much blood around here that a little bit more isn’t
going to matter. I was planning on a less messy way of
getting rid of you two, but this will have to do.”
“Wait a minute.” Pamela’s watery blue eyes wore a
baffled look. She grabbed Lila by the shoulder. “What
do you mean, pin that murder on me?”
Every nerve in Quill’s body was on alert. “You’re a
bit of an inconvenience, Pam. To somebody like Lila, at
least. You know that the time of Maxwell’s murder was
supposed to give you a cast-iron alibi. Did you know
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237
that the cell phone that Maxwell supposedly received
the phone call on at nine forty-five wasn’t his cell phone
at all? That when Lila went in to kill him at ten thirty, a
time when you didn’t have an alibi, she replaced his
own phone with the one police now have in evidence?
And that the cell phone in evidence was purchased by
you?” This last shot was what Quill’s business manager,
John Raintree, would have called a “Wild-Ass Guess.”
But unlike Quill’s own business plans, the WAG
worked. It was clear from Pamela’s shock that she had
purchased the cell phone, undoubtedly at Lila’s suggestion. Ruthlessly, Quill pressed on. “And guess how long it’s going to take Simon Provost to track the purchaser
of the phone? They have serial numbers, you know.”
Quill didn’t know if cell phones had serial numbers or
not. But it was clear that Pamela didn’t know, either.
“Simon Provost has that phone. I saw the evidence report myself.” Quill leaned forward. “Have you ever known Lila to be faithful to anyone? You know what
Olivia always says: character is destiny. Destiny is character. Just look at Lila’s history.” Quill brought her feet under her so quietly that neither one of the women could
have noticed. “She’s been through how many guys since
you’ve known her?”
“That’s different,” Pamela flared. “Men are different!”
“And what about Priscilla? She dumped Priscilla, too.”
Pamela’s face was red with temper. She screamed,
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” But the screams weren’t
directed at Quill. They were directed at Lila herself.
Lila shrugged, brought the gun smoothly around, and
shot Pamela through the heart just as Quill and the
Pekinese sprang at her.
CHAPTER 14
“She is just the most beautiful baby,” Quill said. “Truly,
John.”
John Raintree smiled at all four of them. His wife
Trish, Quill, Meg, and his first child, Sarah Margaret
Raintree, all sat in Quill’s office late Saturday afternoon,
as promised. Quill held the baby in her arms with a feeling that was both achingly new and as old as time. The baby’s soft cheek pressed into her throat; her breath was
as light as dandelion down.
“Can I have a turn?” Meg whispered.
Quill handed Sarah Margaret over with a strange reluctance.
“So you’ve solved another murder,” John said. A
broad grin creased his bronze cheeks. He was half
Onondaga, and one of the handsomest men Quill had
ever seen. His business acumen had kept the Inn afloat
in its early years. Once Quill and Meg were firmly on
their feet, he left to pursue more substantial clients. And
he had married Trish, who was both beautiful and calm.
GROUND TO A HALT
239
“And now the baby,” Quill said aloud.
“Did you say something, Quill?” Trish was keeping a
slightly anxious eye on her month-old offspring, but she
was keeping up with the conversation.
“Yes, we did wrap the case up yesterday.” Quill
blushed. “Sort of. I was convinced that the murderer
was someone else entirely. But I think we would have
worked it out. I mean, once we realized Lila wasn’t
dead, everything fell into place. Lila knew about the rat
meal, for example, because she was part of the inner
workings of Pet Pro. She told Pamela, probably because
it amused her. Pamela fed the information to Olivia.
Hence the prophecy.”
“Hence,” Meg muttered. She and John exchanged
grins. “She’s still upset, no matter what she says to the
contrary. Remember how she gets wordier when she
gets upset? She still does it.”
Quill continued with cool dignity. “There were other
clues I ignored or overlooked. The fact that Pamela identified the body that was supposed to be Lila. The fingerprints on Lila’s purse didn’t match the fi
ngerprints on the body, for example. Not to mention the fresh bleach
job on whomever the corpse will turn out to be.”
“The woman hiker that was missing,” Meg said quietly. “Davy said they would have identified her correctly within a few days, but by then Lila was planning on being out of the country.” She gave Sarah Margaret
back to Trish. Quill saw the same reluctance on her face
that she’d felt herself. “I must say it was brilliant of you
to shake Pamela up like that, Quill.”
“Not so brilliant.” Quill looked out her office win
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dow. The serenity that she’d felt holding the baby was
rapidly disappearing. “She’s dead. And it’s my fault.”
“You didn’t have a lot of choice,” John said.
There was a confident tap at her office door. Quill
knew that tap. It was Jerry Grimsby, and he would come
in whether she said to or not.
Jerry poked his head around the door. “They’re
here,” he said. He caught Meg’s eye and smiled warmly.
“And the party’s ready.”
They rose and followed Jerry into the dining room,
where, at Harland Peterson’s request, five tables had
been set with the Inn’s most festive tablecloths and
flowers.
Quill, Meg, and John and his family took a seat at
the largest table. Marge, her leg in a bright blue walking cast, hopped to the head of the table, followed by Harland.
“You feelin’ okay there, Margie?” Harland tucked
his hand under her elbow and helped her into the chair.
He placed her crutches neatly against the far wall and
settled into the chair next to hers.
“Stop fussing, you old fool,” Marge said gruffly. Her
face was pink with pleasure. She shot a glance at Quill.
“Think he’d never seen a person on crutches before.”
“Thank goodness he’s never seen you on crutches
before,” Quill said warmly.
“And may you never be on them again.” Jerry
Grimsby smiled gallantly at Marge, and then wrapped
one arm around Meg, who was seated next to him.
Quill looked around the room. They were all there,
Dina with Davy Kiddermeister, Doreen and her husband Stoke, the mayor and his scarily competent wife,
GROUND TO A HALT
241
Adela, Howie and Miriam. Quill changed the color of
her dining room every few years—whenever the carpet
in the dining room needed to be replaced—and the new
cloths had just arrived. They were a clear crystal pink, a
color that shouldn’t have worked, but did. Autumn roses
held pride of place in the centers of the tables; the beautiful bronze of Oregold, the passionately red Mr. Lincoln, the creamy perfection of Peace. The flowers set off the perfection of the china Helena Houndswood had
designed for the Inn so long ago. Quill lightly traced the
rose-breasted grosbeak in the middle of the dinner plate
and sighed with relief.
Lila Longstreet had been arrested for the murders of
Maxwell Kittleburger and Pamela Durbin late last night.
Olivia Oberlie and her TV crew had departed that morning for the Seattle zoo, where she planned to translate messages of unity and peace from the giant pandas. The
Finnegans had hired divorce lawyers. Rudy Baranga
and Millard Barnstaple had been stopped at the Canadian border and arrested. Priscilla Barnstaple had made Rudy’s bail, but remained stern in her desire to press
charges against her hapless husband. Quill had hopes
that she would relent. And Esther West had rescued
thirty-two puppies from the rusty trailer behind Lila
Longstreet’s hideout, which she now referred to as the
Trailer of Death. So far, Carol Ann had failed in her attempts to double the taxes on West’s Best Dress Shoppe.
It was two businesses now, Carol Ann alleged: a pet store
and a dress shop. Harvey Bozzel had created a new slogan for Esther: “West’s Best! Dogs and Dresses.” She’d ordered t-shirts and coffee mugs with her new logo—
Pookie the Peke in a trouser suit.
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Claudia Bishop
“Your champagne, Mr. Peterson.” Cassie Winter-
borne set the largest of the Inn’s wine buckets at Harland’s side with truly professional flair. She wrapped a white napkin deftly around the neck of the first bottle,
poured a taste for Harland, who sipped, nodded gravely,
and waited while the rest of the table was served. Then
he stood and raised his glass:
“To old friends.”
“To old friends,” they echoed.
Harland grinned. “And me? I’m gonna kiss the
bride.”
“Go on, you old fool,” Marge said, with unmistakable pleasure.
and made plans that would please Myles very much.
BEST-EVER POUND
CAKE
With Quill in a maternal mood, she is doing quite a bit
of home baking. If you bake this cake in a deep-sided,
9-inch round pan, you will get terrific results.
1 cup salted butter
13⁄4 cups sugar
4 eggs
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 cups flour
1 cup heavy whipping cream
2 teaspoons vanilla
Beat the butter and sugar together until fluffy. Add one
egg at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the
baking powder to the flour, then add 1⁄2 cup of the mixture to the egg/butter/sugar mixture. Beat well. Add the heavy cream. Beat well. Add the last 1⁄2 cup of flour and
the vanilla. Beat until mixture turns satiny, at least three
minutes.
Bake about one hour at 350 degrees.
Toppings for this pound cake range from berries to
mousse. Take your pick!
CLAUDIA BISHOP is the pseudonym for
Mary Stanton. Ground to a Halt is the fourteenth in the Hemlock Falls series. Look for her new series, The Casebooks of Dr. McKenzie,
which will feature some of your favorite characters from Hemlock Falls. (The McKenzies live one town over.)
As Mary Stanton, Claudia is also the author
of fourteen other novels. She is the senior editor
of three successful mystery anthologies, Death
Dines at 8:30 (with Nick DiChario), Death
Dines In (with Dean James), and A Merry Band
of Murderers (with Don Bruns). Claudia divides
her time between a working farm in upstate New
York and a small home in West Palm Beach,
Florida. She loves to hear from readers, and can
be reached at claudiabishop.com.
Document Outline
Cover Page
Praise
The Hemlock Falls Mysteries by Claudia Bishop
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
Cast of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Best-Ever Pound Cake
About the Author
ishop, Ground to a Halt